“I have, my mistress,” said he, “a married sister that dwelleth in Norfolk, but I have not seen her these many years.”
He thought she must mean that Christie’s health would be better in some other climate, which was a strange idea to him, at a time when change of air was considered almost dangerous.
“Norfolk—should scarce serve,” said the lady, in a timid, hesitating manner. “The air of the Green Yard at Norwich (where stood the Bishop’s prison for heretics) is not o’er good. I think not of your little maid’s health, Master Hall, but of your own.”
Roger Hall was on the point of asserting with some perplexity and much amazement, that his health was perfect, and he required neither change nor medicine, when the real object of these faltering words suddenly flashed on him. His heart seemed to leap into his mouth, then to retreat to its place, beating fast.
“My mistress,” he said earnestly, “I took not at the first your kindly meaning rightly, but I count I so do now. If so be, I thank you more than words may tell. But I must abide at my post. My sister Alice is not yet found; and should I be taken from the child”—his voice trembled for a moment—“God must have care of her.”
“I will have a care of her, in that case,” said Mrs Collenwood. “Master Hall, we may speak freely. What you are, I am. Now I have put my life in your hands, and I trust you to be true.”
“I will guard it as mine own,” answered Roger warmly, “and I give you the most heartiest thanks, my mistress, that a man wot how to utter. But if I may ask you, be any more in danger? My brother, and Master White, and Mistress Final—”
“All be in danger,” was the startling answer, “that hold with us. But the one only name that I have heard beside yours, is mine hostess of the White Hart.”
“Mistress Final? I reckoned so much. I will have a word with her, if it may be, on my way back to Cranbrook, and bid her send word to the others. Alack the day! how long is Satan to reign, and wrong to triumph?”
“So long as God will,” replied Mrs Collenwood. “So long as His Church hath need of the cleansing physic shall it be ministered to her. When she is made clean, and white, and tried, then—no longer. God grant, friend, that you and I may not fail Him when the summons cometh for us—‘The Master calleth for thee.’”